Sword of the Gods: Prince of Tyre (Sword of the Gods Saga)

by Anna Erishkigal

  “It sure worked for Ninsianna?” Yalda elbowed him in the ribs.

  “One chuck of the spear at the solstice festival,” Zhila said.

  “And the next thing you know, fluffy whisks her off into the sky for a kiss,” Yalda laughed some more.

  “Yes,” Mikhail said. “It did rather happen that way. Although … it was more the fish at the end of the spear while I was still at my ship that captured my attention.”

  “See?” Zhila said. “Spear plus fish equals handsome husband.”

  “Typical male,” Yalda said. “Always looking out for their stomachs. By the way, I think the next batch of bread is ready.”

  As Yalda fiddled with the lid to her oven and Zhila examined the next vat of beer, Mikhail pondered their words, not bothering to hide his frown because the widow-sisters were his trusted friends … and also because the alcohol loosened his rigid control of how he expressed his emotions. He thought of the distance which had opened up between himself and Ninsianna.

  “What’s wrong, son?” Yalda asked.

  “We’ve noticed,” Zhila said.

  “You’ve been deeply unhappy lately,” Yalda finished.

  “I don’t think Ninsianna loves me anymore,” Mikhail said the awful thought which now tormented him constantly. The anguished expression on his face made the sisters hug him from either side. “No matter what I do, she’s always angry at me. She doesn’t even want me around anymore. I can’t feel her anymore … here.” He touched his chest above where his heart beat.

  “You’re just going through a period of adjustment,” Yalda said.

  “Every married couple goes through it,” Zhila said.

  “You move from initial attraction,” Yalda said.

  “Where you think the other is perfect,” Zhila said.

  “To acceptance,” Yalda said.

  “That the other person is human,” Zhila said.

  “Or in your case, Angelic,” Yalda said.

  “And you need to make adjustments in your expectations,” Zhila said.

  “Of what the other person can give you,” Yalda said.

  “But I love her,” Mikhail said. “She asked me to train the village warriors, I trained the village warriors. She asked me to help the Chief negotiate mutual aid agreements with the other chief's, so I helped negotiate mutual aid agreements with the other chiefs. I have done every single thing she has ever asked. If she were to ask me to go battle Shay’tan so I could bring her his head on a platter, I would do it for her. What more does she want from me?”

  The sisters looked at each other and hesitated a moment, and then spoke.

  “We love Ninsianna,” Yalda said.

  “She can be kind, and sweet, and thoughtful,” Zhila said.

  “But we are also friends with her mother,” Yalda said.

  “Needa had a terrible a time with her when Ninsianna was younger,” Zhila said.

  “She used to go around talking to that goddess of hers all the time as if she were some imaginary best friend,” Yalda said.

  “And would pay no mind to what happened around her here in Assur,” Zhila said.

  “She does that now,” Mikhail said. “She’s convinced a great evil is coming, worse than what we’ve seen so far. She says that’s why she keeps pushing me so hard to train our people.”

  “If that is what Ninsianna sees,” Yalda said.

  “Then that is what Ninsianna sees,” Zhila said.

  “But sometimes Ninsianna forgets she is mortal like the rest of us,” Yalda said.

  "Mortal!" Mikhail broke the straw he'd been using only moments earlier to sip his bear. "First I had to convince her I was as ordinary as any other villager, and now that she has realized it is true, she acts as though she is angry at me! I think she thought I could carry her up into the heavens?"

  “Needa had a terrible time keeping her safe when she was younger," Yalda said.

  "Ninsianna put herself into danger all the time because she didn’t pay attention to the fact she has a body,” Zhila said.

  “And she would get angry at her mother whenever Needa tried to remind her of that fact,” Yalda said. "And they would argue. It is why Ninsianna has always been closer to her father."

  “Needa said she felt as though Ninsianna wanted to hurry up and throw herself into the dreamtime because then she would be closer to the goddess,” Zhila said.

  “It is like that now,” Mikhail said. “It’s as though she’s not even here half the time anymore. She almost got herself killed during the battle because she left her post and wandered off.”

  “Needa used to discourage her from talking to She-who-is,” Yalda said.

  “She would get into great rows with Immanu about it,” Zhila said. “Because Immanu wanted to encourage her, while Needa wanted her to pay attention to what happens here in the ordinary world.”

  “Ninsianna’s not a child anymore,” Mikhail said. “I can only voice my fears, not make her do anything. But she gets so angry with me! She gets angry because I cannot do what she does.”

  “Ninsianna was always…” Yalda said.

  “Fickle,” Zhila said.

  “Every boy in the village used to follow her around the way the young women now follow you around,” Yalda said.

  “And she would be nice to them,” Zhila said. She put her hand on Mikhail's arm. “Not like you. You are always polite, but distant. Ninsianna was not like that. She would be … warm.”

  “She would encourage them,” Yalda said. “The boys would think that she liked them.”

  “They would do anything for her,” Zhila said.

  “And then she would get bored with them and move onto the next one,” Yalda said.

  “That is what happened with Jamin,” Zhila said.

  “She encouraged his affections,” Yalda said.

  “And then she just lost interest in him,” Zhila said.

  “Shortly before she met you,” Yalda said.

  Mikhail stared down at his broken straw. The last thing he wanted was to admit he had something in common with the disgraced son of the village chief. Unfortunately, the more snappish Ninsianna got lately, the more he found himself sympathizing with the man he had helped banish from their village. He was not alone in that guilt, however. Yalda had been one of Jamin's judges.

  What would he act like if Ninsianna ever broke things off with him? The thought had never occurred to him until three nights ago, when he had woken up spooned around her and realized he could not feel her!

  “Jamin's behavior was inexcusable,” Mikhail snapped the reed into two more, shorter pieces, and crushed them in the palm of his hand into tiny shavings.

  “Yes,” Yalda scowled, no doubt remembering the facts which had been presented to her before she had given Jamin her verdict. “It was inexcusable.”

  “Ninsianna bit off more than she could chew when she rejected him like she did the others,” Zhila said.

  “Jamin was never the type of man to hear ‘I'm sorry but I’m not interested in you anymore.’ Yalda said.

  “He was the Chief’s son,” Zhila said. “And he was used to getting what he wanted.”

  “That doesn’t excuse how he behaved,” Yalda said. “His actions were reprehensible.”

  “But his behavior was not totally unjustified,” Zhila said.

  “Only the extremes he went to afterwards.” Yalda said.

  Mikhail was silent as he digested the widow-sister's words. They knew him well enough to understand he needed time alone with his thoughts to process information. Finally, he said, “I never thought I would feel sympathy for Jamin.”

  “Jamin is a goat's backside,” Yalda said.

  “He did not deserve her,” Zhila said.

  “But you are different,” Yalda said.

  “She loves you,” Zhila said.

  “Or she would not have married you,” Yalda said.

  “But Ninsianna has always looked forward to the next exciting new thing that comes around the corner,”
Zhila said.

  “And she needs to grow up,” Yalda patted her hand upon the table several times as she finished her train of thought.

  Mikhail flared his wings with exasperation.

  “If this isn’t exciting enough for her,” Mikhail said, “I don’t know what is! It’s been nothing but nonstop excitement ever since I got here. Kidnappings? Raising armies? And now war? I don’t remember much about my past as a soldier other than the skills I learned, but I remember enough to know this is more excitement than even –I- am accustomed to seeing.”

  The sisters silently chewed their bread and sipped their beer. Finally, they spoke.

  “When you first came to us,” Yalda said. “Immanu came to this village and told everyone a winged god had come down from the sky to be our savior.”

  “But I am just a mortal,” Mikhail lamented. “The same as you are. I’m just … my people are just a little different than yours.”

  “We know that now,” Zhila said. “But Ninsianna told us that when she first got her vision to go find you and heal you, the goddess showed her she would travel between the stars in your sky canoe with you.”

  “You mean my ship?”

  “Yes,” both sisters said.

  “My ship is broken,” Mikhail said. “I tried to fix it. Even if I find a power source to reboot the mainframe and use it to get the engines running, it will never fly again. It will break apart the moment I try to breach orbit.”

  The sisters just looked at each other, understanding nothing that he had just said. He decided to rephrase the answer.

  “My canoe has holes in it and the oars are broken," Mikhail explained. "It’s too badly broken to fix. If I try to return to the sky, it will leak and sink, killing me.”

  “Oh,” both sisters nodded understanding.

  “You think Ninsianna is angry because I didn’t carry her off into the stars?” Mikhail asked.

  “Possibly,” Yalda said.

  “Or it could be that the job of being this savior Immanu seems to think you are takes up a lot more of your time than she is willing to give,” Zhila said.

  “But she is the one who pushes me so hard to train an army!” Mikhail said, frustrated.

  “Knowing what needs to be done,” Yalda said.

  “And making the sacrifices necessary to do it,” Zhila said.

  “Are often two different things,” Yalda said.

  “She wants you to protect our people,” Zhila said.

  “But it’s entirely possible she also resents it,” Yalda said.

  “I know I would,” Zhila said.

  “As would I,” Yalda said.

  “How much time do you get to spend with her just being romantic lately?” Zhila asked gently, understanding he was far more prudish about discussing such things than the Ubaid were.

  “None,” he answered. “We start before the sun rises, and I don’t get home until late at night. I don’t even get to take rest-day off anymore. This time of year, we’re training by torch-light and bonfire. It’s all I can do to drag myself home and fall into bed.”

  “And therein may lay the problem,” Yalda said.

  “How do I fix this?” Mikhail asked, torn between his two competing needs. “Her visions of escalating trouble have been accurate. According to what she sees in the visions, the worst is yet to come. If I don’t train your people, you will be overrun.”

  Zhila handed him an unbroken reed. He stuck it back into the urn and took another sip. The three of them sat in silence, sipping beer from the communal vat. The bread was now gone. Yalda broke out a bowl of roasted acorns to nibble on to soak up some of the effects of the beer.

  “How good are some of the warriors you’ve been training,” Zhila finally asked. “Such as Pareesa?”

  “Pretty good,” Mikhail said. “I can’t remember everything about my experience as a soldier in the Emperor’s armies, but I think the Ubaid warriors would be acceptable to him. Pareesa and Siamek … they would both excel and move up the ranks rapidly. Both have natural leadership ability.”

  “Who trained this emperor’s warriors?” Yalda asked. “Did he do it all himself?”

  “Of course not,” Mikhail said. “We had a chain of command. General Jophiel was in charge of all four branches of the military. Then each branch had its own 4-star general," he frowned, "but I can't remember anything more about them than that there were four of them. Than underneath them was a group of lower ranking soldiers. And so on.”

  “Perhaps that is what you need to do, then?” Zhila said. “Assign some of the tasks to the people you have trained so the burden is not so heavy? You are only one person.”

  “I’ve been doing that, to some extent,” Mikhail said. “Pareesa helped with extra training with the ones who are slow to learn, and Siamek helped with training some of the more mundane tasks. We have a chain of command for when we go into battle.”

  “Perhaps you need to institute a chain of command for your training, as well?” Yalda said. "It's about time they started learning how to do these things."

  “You are only one person,” Zhila said.

  “You can only do so much,” Yalda said.

  “Ask for help,” Zhila said.

  “It will make the people you ask better leaders,” Yalda said. “They will learn more.”

  “And it will give you more time to devote to Ninsianna,” Zhila said.

  The widow-sisters did not disturb him as he sipped beer and pondered which warrior might perform well at what job. Pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. Perhaps he could accomplish everything he needed to get done and still make time to devote to his wife? And friends? And perhaps even make time to teach some of the advanced weapons training he had precious little time to do these days because he spent so much time teaching the basics?

  “It might work,” Mikhail said finally; hope lifting up his spirits for the first time in many, many weeks. “I will talk to the Chief.” He would go home and tell Ninsianna the good news about his clever new ideas about how to make things better.

  “Good!” Yalda said.

  “Cheers!” Zhila took another sip of the beer.

  “Cheers,” Mikhail replied, knowing even as he stuck the straw back into the urn full of beer that he would regret the hangover he would be sporting tomorrow morning.

  Chapter 89

  November – 3,390 BC

  Earth: Village of Assur

  Ninsianna

  Ninsianna followed the river of consciousness past the stars that whispered conspiratorially about how to find her own way around the dreamtime. She was here to find answers; answers to questions she suspected lay just beyond that frustrating black wall. Well tonight she had been clever! The goddess' distraction during the recent battle had taught her that She-who-is couldn't really pay attention to everything that was happening all at once. Why else did she need Chosen Ones and eagles for eyes? She'd slipped in quietly, just a little off the path she usually traveled to hide from the goddess' watchful eye, and slipped through the dreamtime like a naughty teenager sneaking out of the house to meet her lover.

  She just had to know! Had Mikhail lay down with Shahla? Why was she prohibited from seeing inside of his mind? Was the incident she had just suffered at the hands of the Halifians THE incident she'd been having nightmares about all these months? Or was it just a lesser incident and THE INCIDENT had yet to occur? Did she still need to keep pushing Mikhail to build an army? Or was the worst of it finally over?

  The stars giggled like naughty co-conspirators as she pushed against that great, dark wall, unable to circumvent it. All of a sudden she felt a warning buzz, an admonition not to let go of the thread which connected her to her mortal vessel or she'd forget to breathe. Drat! The goddess had caught onto her little unauthorized expedition.

  "Let me see what lies beyond the wall," Ninsianna pleaded. "Please?"

  ‘Not yet, child,’ the whisper was heard not with mortal ears, but from all around her, the way one might feel a str
eam flowing around a rock. 'You still have work as of yet unfinished.'

  The stream of consciousness shifted, pushing her back to where Papa called to her from the edge of the precipice. He'd been calling for quite some time, but she'd been ignoring him.

  “Ninsianna,” Papa called. “This way. Follow my voice back into the land of the living.”

  With a sigh, she followed Papa’s voice back to that dark realm which sat just above the one where consciousness turned into matter; the realm where ghosts and evil spirits could manipulate the living if one wasn’t careful. Papa stood bathed in his own small circle of golden light, waiting for her to return.

  “Hello, Papa,” Ninsianna forced her spirit-body to give a false smile even though she was not ready to return to the material realms just yet. “I was having so much fun that I did not hear you call.”

  “Do not be so anxious to cast off your body,” Papa scolded. “You have a husband who loves you and a baby who will not be born if you behave so recklessly.”

  “She-who-is led my attention to something she wanted me to see,” Ninsianna lied.

  “Who do you think sent you back, child,” Papa sighed. His bushy dark eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Do not forget that in here I can see the spirit-light as well as you can. I asked She-who-is for help in finding you. Our blessed Mother was beneficent enough to hear a father’s prayer.”

  Duly chastised, Ninsianna took Papa’s hand and waited for him to shepherd her through the dark realms that, after where she’d just traveled, was about as pleasant as swimming through a river full of excrement, fish guts and rotted fruit. The shadow-cat which had followed her ever since the night she'd dreamed of the terrifying black man, the one that had curled around her feet and licked her ankles, trailed behind her to the edge of the waking world, mewling as though it expected her to pick it up and pet it.

  That familiar heaviness weighed her down her as her mind adjusted to being back in her body. With a weary sigh, she opened her eyes and forced her hand to move. As expected, the house was dark except for the light of two small clay lanterns flickering on the kitchen table.

  Mama had already changed into her sleeping gown and sat worriedly at the table mending one of Papa's kilts. Her ashen complexion and the bags under her eyes attested to too much stress from tending the lingering wounded. Regardless of her exhaustion, she had lay out a modest late night snack for them, a porridge of barley and honey, roasted acorns, and a flagon of water.